You'll Let Me Live
by BadBoysAreBest
Summary: What is time? She's developed a remarkable taste. -COMPLETE-


Her blood drips down your esophagus as your teeth sink into her breasts, pressing her close until no slip of space separates your naked bones. Her frail body is a mere illusion as she contorts with you. She moves the way you want as she allows you to take the reins for the time being. Then her nails dig deep into your damp scalp as she asks for a harder bite. You feel it all, even before she asks in actions, as you are in tune with her every desire. She is yours, utterly, unfathomably just _yours_. It has been this way for years and your relationship with her will continue until you turn to ash. You will see to that. You let go and drag your bloody, swollen mouth up along her chest to her neck as if every curve was new to your precise seduction. Your lips meet hers and her tongue dips in, tasting some of her essence. Her tongue presses against yours and take a heavier grip on her hips. With a bite of your lip and a pop to let go, she squirms against you, ready and eager for more.

With a heavy slap on the mattress, you are suddenly on your back and her long brunette hair tickles your face as she crawls down the length of your body. Your mouth opens with a deep moan as her fangs dig deep into the space above your left collarbone. You hold her to your chest as she bites again, this time harder than the last. You are a shivering mess, regardless of the tell-tale sweat that's sliding down your chest and pressed against the valley of her breasts. She takes you again, the same routine repeats. You begin to lose count of the bites as the minutes turn to hours.

Shake, shaking, you come undone to her relentless appetite. Your eyes begin to gloss over as you barely hang on to consciousness as the pretty ceiling fan does a little dance for you. Your heavy lidded eyes shut as your emotions become harder to control and categorize. Your self-preservation starts to fight you on this. You want her to stop while at the same time, your lost soul demands to give it all to her. It is barely audible that you are the one making all those damn noises. And just when you think that you can't take a second more, she lets you go with an echoing pop.

With eyes wide open, you groan feeling insatiable with renewed lust. This is who you are with her. Your energy and exhaustion becomes one in the same space. Your dick is instantly hard as she teasingly licks down the red blotches that she has made along your skin. She marks you up as if the scars will be there tomorrow, but maybe she just likes to pretend that others can see them in the future. Your hips jerk up as she goes lower. That's it, that's exactly where you need her. She aims to please whenever it's on her own terms. Your head thrashes side to side with every swirl of her tongue around your dick. When you begin to swear and praise, you fleetingly notice that the sun is rising through the green velvet curtains of your shared hotel room. You've been doing this dance for the entire night.

But what is time to vampires? Absolutely nothing; that's what.

Hours later among the mass of Argentines, you hold her hand tight as you walk along the sidewalks of Palermo. It's another sweltering, hotter than hot day in the South American country. Women in loose dresses that drape like silk sheets and short-shorts are at every turn. Lack of wearing much of anything is their only way to cope with the heat. Their sweat assaults your nose as they bump into you on the sidewalk. But you only have eyes for the tanned brunette at your side. Being honest, it feels as if you've _only_ ever had eyes for her; considering that you fell for the woman with same face as your first love. The thought of Katherine is as foggy as a lost dream. She's been that to you for long while now. You haven't heard from her in over a decade, possibly three. It's better this way.

"Damon." Your companion says, tugging you along and you stir out of your thoughts. Your attention checks in place like a knight against a queen, ready for her next move.

Eyes locked on hers, your head tilts as you wait for her to speak again. She wants something.

"Here?" She asks with a small shrug. She seems disconnected as you notice the way that her smile doesn't meet her eyes. You don't like it.

You agree on the restaurant of her choice. It appears trendy on the outside, but the details of the building hint of experience. Food is indulged as purely a way to have a source of entertainment, to break up the monotonous days. You're infinitely glad that she did not take a disliking to it after she turned. This had to have been because she pretended to be a high school to stay in her own home. You shudder thinking of microwaved cafeteria food. You don't know how she put up with such hell.

The blonde, blue-eyed, and tall as a model mai·tre d' smiles as she sees you walking in. "Buenas tardes." She greets huskily and compliments the beautiful couple that you two make.

In the early years, Elena used to smile or blush as much as she could at compliments like these, but the years have worn in her confidence. She might have to live in a teenage body for eternity, but her soul is womanly.

The mai·tre d' quickly explains that there are no open tables because of the holiday, but also that the wait should not be too long since she only needs to clear a table for two. You nod in agreement, not bothering with compulsion as there is no rush to eat. It's not as if either of you are starving for _food_.

"Elena." Your companion says, replying to the mai·tre d' who asked for which name to hold the reservation under.

The mai·tre d' gives your partner a curious eye and you know she is attempting to figure out her nationality. Having traveled all over the world and lived in countless of cities together, where she was born no longer sticks to her. She has become a woman of the world.

Ushered to the long stretching bar to wait for your table, you pull out chairs for the two of you. As much as you enjoy tearing off her clothes or fucking her against dirty walls, you also know that being a gentleman is always appreciated. You were raised in a different time, after all.

Elena asks for red wine. She asks for a signature bottle without fumbling on any of her words and the bartender looks impressed for a moment. Her age must be a stark comparison to her behavior.

You've taught her well.

She's developed a remarkable taste.

More importantly, as her eyes meet yours, you remember that her favorite taste is you.

Developing an addiction to your mate's blood is not something that is talked about among vampires. It is not as if it bothers you. To you, it's not even a _problem_. For all you know, other mated vampires might think it's as normal as not breathing. Besides, you'd rather have her addicted to you than making a mess of things with various body parts as your baby brother had across state lines.

As she takes a sip of her wine, you watch her as she closes her eyes. For a moment, you swear that you see a single tear slide down her cheek. Just one. It might be sunny as the Devil's sabbath outside, but inside the establishment, the light is low and playing tricks on you even with your enhanced vision.

Then again, she had also seemed sad earlier?

You brace yourself to deal with whatever problem might come to fruition. She has been surprisingly short with her words since you left the hotel this afternoon.

A couple more sips of her wine and the time has come to sit down at a table. When the menu comes around, you try to not flinch looking at the "Christmas Specials" written in tacky red and green cursive font.

So, that is the reason for the bout of melancholy.

_How could you be so stupid? So selfish not to notice?_

You never notice time anymore, but she still does. It's because she's relatively young when compared to you.

Her brother is still alive while you no longer talk to yours.

After the waiter comes to take the orders, a bloated silence passes over the table. You loathe feeling it as much as you do. She is looking down at her plate and certainly not in your direction. A pout etches on your face, you don't want her to feel hurt. Her sadness is a shared sadness, it washes over you like a tidal wave.

"Do you want to call Jeremy?" You suddenly blurt out. It was probably a hasty choice of words, but you never did learn how to hold your tongue.

She tenses up in her seat, stiff as a board. Shit, you've done it now. She won't speak to you for days.

Instead, she surprises you. She still has a habit of doing that.

"Should I?" She asks in a mousy voice that's out of character for her.

"If you want to, yes." You assure her and risk your hand across the ways to grip her right one that's flat against the table. You give her hand one gentle squeeze that means enough. She looks as if she's about to shatter, but then her hand under yours softens and she looks up at you with eyes that overpower you.

"What would I say?" Her bottom lip trembles and you're not sure if she wants an actual reply, but you answer regardless.

"Merry Christmas." You say with a trademark smirk, trying to prove that she can do this. One of them has to keep the situation lighthearted.

"I'm not... I..." Her hand retracts under yours with a speed that would have looked suspicious to others if someone had seen your private moment. Thankfully, the holiday has everyone preoccupied with their own business.

"I..." She begins again. "I am not sure how to reach him."

Yes, it can be troubling how easy it is to lose contact with people over a decade. You know this too well as people have passed through your life. It's impossible for a vampire to stay in one place for long: you'd become an easy target for any lone vampire hunter. With your experience though in such matters, you know that she'll get ahold of Jeremy eventually. It will only take some patience.

"You will just have to start at the places that he could be and work your way out from there." You say resolved, hoping that your own assurance will pour into her. You're connected. The two of you have always had an understanding; even back when she was a living, breathing girl.

Jeremy Gilbert is 87 years old. It has been a little over 65 years since Elena left Mystic Falls for good. That's the thing about having a loved one that keeps aging while you do not: the older they get, the harder it becomes to come up with excuses about how you're acquainted with them.

Not that Elena hadn't seen her brother in _that_ long, but the visits are always kept to hours- possibly a few days at most. You recall how Jeremy's college years were the hardest on the close siblings. Frankly, it hurt knowing that Elena would never have any use for a degree with her supernatural abilities You had attempted to persuade her to take on a degree or two, as you'd done so yourself in the past, but she had wanted no part of it. She firmly voted for a vampire lifestyle, claiming that she didn't want to fake anything anymore. This had occurred around the same time that Stefan left town, unable to cope with her drinking human blood.

After Jeremy graduated college, he fell in love with a total sweetheart and got married at the age of 26. He had three kids with his wife and now he's a grandfather. He's lived a full life with many birthdays. He lived the kind of life that Elena wanted to have, the kind that she had expected to have before her car accident on Wickery Bridge.

Shortly after taking a few bites of the steak that Argentina is famous for - prepared rare of course - Elena and you walk to the nearest Bodega to pick up a few international calling cards. You purchase six, not knowing how many it will take to contact Jeremy. You hope for her sake, it doesn't take too many, but you'd pay anything to see her be lively again.

Back in the hotel room on the twelfth floor, you pace on the balcony while you are hearing every missed call that she has made. You don't want to crowd her, but you also have to be there for her if she can't actually get ahold of her brother. You don't know what you'll do if that happens, so for now, you won't worry.

It takes four calls before she calls the right number.

"Jer." Her voice is hopeful and you take a single step closer to the glass door that barricades you from her.

"It's me." She says and you know that she's smiling, even though you can't see it. Your own eyes blink suddenly, not realizing that you've begun to shed a few tears for her. Her happiness is your happiness.

The siblings talk and talk, sometimes faster than you can listen. You know that she wants to talk to Jeremy's children, to his grandchildren. But since the call wasn't planned, it's hard for them to come up with an excuse of sorts. Even through the glass, you manage to pick up a few distinct noises from his side of the conversation, it's the sounds of Christmas. Your eyes instantly dart to clock on the nightstand to her side and you realize that it has to be around ten in the morning in Virginia. The next generation of little Gilberts must be rushing around the tree and inspecting the cookies that Santa certainly ate the night before.

"I miss you." You hear Elena say in a clear voice. She sounds strong. She sounds like _your_ Elena.

"Really?" She perks up as life is jutted back into her reanimated shell.

"Next year, then?" She bounces softly on the bed and you figure that's a sign, if any, that it's safe to enter the hotel room again.

She nods profusely with excitement and looks up at you with a look that makes your dead heart pitter-patter.

"He wants us to come next year." Elena mouthes to you and raises her eyebrows as if it's a question. It's not, as far as you're concerned.

"We'll be there." She promises to her brother. You'll have to be discreet, but you'll make the visit work for her. She needs to see her brother.

When the call ends, Elena sprawls on the bed in bliss looking completely at ease. In seconds, you kick off your shoes and climb up next to her. You scoot up to her side, matching her place, laying on your back as well.

As her hands reaches out for yours, you are instantly back in that trashy hotel in Georgia. That time that she had gripped your hand over the sheets and her heart had come at you like a speeding train. And then after that, there was that kiss! What a kiss! It was everything that you had dreamed about for months. A man, especially a vampire, could never forget a memory such as that one.

Elena and you have come miles and more since that night and there are more pending chapters in the book of your joined lives. She can count on you. You would never leave her side. She knows that.

It is undisputed that Jeremy will die. That is his destined fate. He will grow older and wrinklier than he is now, and one day in the future, he will pass with a loving family by his side. His family will grieve and his stories will be shared through the years. This significant event will devastate Elena, but in time, she will recover as she always does. It might take a decade or two, but eventually, she will be herself again and you will be present for every tear and every smile.

"Merry Christmas, Elena." You say, turning to her, and lean over for a sound kiss on her lips.

"Merry Christmas, Damon." She sighs and leans into your mouth for another kiss.

**The End**

**Be Good & Review!**

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A/N: Aww, it was fun to imagine future!Delena. I wrote this for the DE Holiday Exchange at TVD Mixing. You can find the link on my profile. Here is the prompt that I answered for Someryn:_ "Dreading Christmas / Blood sharing / Tears and wine / A heartfelt phone call / A happy ending (!)"_ - I know that I posted this past Xmas, but as I'm the host of the fest, I attempt to take on a few homeless prompts before January 4th.


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